***

Mr. Perfect. Mr. Right. You’d think that after one moment spent looking at his gorgeous, tattooed arms. But is he really? Guys and gals – guys, more specifically – stop chasing after such unattainable goals. They don’t exist. They’re illusions created to make you happy for a second.

How do we know? Behind each so-called flawless façade, there’s always something. The higher the pretention that the well-crafted exterior is perfect, the uglier and deeper the flaw.

We are on a mission to expose such individuals. Look around you. Do you see these guys, strutting around like they own the world, while their foundation is hollow, hollow, hollow… Look deeper. You’ll see the cracks.

“He’s talking about me.” Jamie threw the phone on the counter and returned to his coffee station.

“And how do you know that?” Janet asked. He had brought her up to speed regarding the campaign Xpress was running against him, only because she had gotten tired of shouting at him to pay attention each time she caught him trapped in the weird-ass assumptions Xpress was making up about him.

“Because that’s all he does. All the freaking time. I’m telling you, this dude is obsessed. Obsessed,” he repeated.

“How do you know it’s a dude?” Janet asked.

“I just know. I got stalked by a guy in a deerstalker cap, and then a rabbit--”

Janet burst into laughter. “You live the most interesting life, Jamie. You’re definitely not a deer, and I have no idea what a rabbit would want with you.”

“He wants to piss me off. And I’m sure these three are one and the same.”

“Which three?”

“This gossip rag smartass, the inspector, and Floppy Ears.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he had to start somewhere.

Ever since the night of his last gig, he had been in a foul mood. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much that the talent scout had decided not to give him the time of day after he had poured his all into his, unfortunately short, performance. The Mitches had behaved like brats afterward, accusing him, not necessarily with words, that he had been trying to steal the show, when they were a band, and a band did everything together—

“Ah, damn it. I’m going to ruffle some feathers,” he decided.

“Feathers? Whose feathers?”

“That stupid rabbit’s,” he said.

“What sort of rabbit has feathers?” Janet asked while studying him with suspicion written all over her face.

He laughed, because there was nothing else for him to do at the moment. He patted Janet on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter if he has them or not, he’s just going to get it. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jamie,” Janet said, and she sounded serious, “who pissed in your coffee?”

“Hey, I’m the one making the coffee around here. And I make damn sure no one pisses in it.”

Janet scrunched up her nose. “Eww, I could have done without that image put in my head.”

“You started it,” he said and pointed a finger at her.

She put a hand on her hip and gave him a long look. “Okay. You’re dodging the issue, like always. How are the Mitches?”

“As annoying as ever.”

“Yeah, thought so,” she said with a sigh. “Maybe you should try a change of scenery, find some other dudes to play with. I’ve heard you play, Jamie. Take what I’m saying however you want, but there might be a possibility that the Mitches are holding you back.”

“I’ve been with them for years,” Jamie protested right away. “I’m not going to abandon them.”

“Hmm, it looks to me like you care more about their feelings than about your own, although from what you’re telling me, they’re a little band of douchebags.”

“It’s not that bad,” he continued to argue. “I’m just whining to you because I know you’ll listen and let me leave early to lick my wounds.”

Janet laughed and smacked him with her towel. “I see, you’re taking advantage of my good heart, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He dodged her attacks, ending up in a race around the empty coffee shop, with Janet gaining on him only because he let her.

“But seriously,” Janet said once she stopped to catch her breath, “you need to take some risks sometimes, Jamie.”

“Hey, isn’t ‘risk’ written all over me?” Jamie said and opened his arms wide.

“Written, maybe,” Janet replied. “But that means nothing if you don’t live what you preach.”

Maybe, just maybe, she had hit a little too close to home, Jamie thought. But she didn’t have to know that, or he’d never hear the end of it.

He had a bunny to roast. A rabbit. A frumpy rabbit. And it needed to happen tonight, because he was in a bad mood and needed to take it out on someone who seemed as much an annoying and arrogant ass as he was.

And if bunny wasn’t Xpress, at least Jamie would get laid. That was his philosophy in life, and he didn’t mind living and dying by it. As a figure of speech, of course.

***